


Intricate Rituals

by apollos



Series: all the times in-between [12]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Feelings, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: Mac and Dennis play pretend on dinner nights. Post 8x09, "The Gang Dines Out."
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Series: all the times in-between [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478432
Comments: 11
Kudos: 116





	Intricate Rituals

In the car, after Guigino's. Mac bounces his leg up and down. Guigino's is normally it. It's the night, the night where they both pretend. The dinner, well. That's them. But after the dinner—on a normal night, they go home, like they always do, but they're full on good food and good wine and in that pleasant place of drunkenness where everything is just a little shinier. They've split a dessert, sugar still in their mouths. In the car they let their hands touch on the console between them. When they come back they walk shoulder-to-shoulder into the apartment, and there is where the pretending begin: Dennis always says something like, "I think I'm gonna take a shower, baby," and Mac says, "okay," and it's like Mac's room doesn't even exist, because he goes straight to Dennis's. He undresses, socks and boxer shorts, and relaxes on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He cracks the windows open just a little bit and listens to the sounds of the street below. Mac likes those sounds. It's not like Charlie's apartment, with the awful alley cat chorus, but the soundscape of Mac and Dennis's nicer place, the roll of tires on the street and the intermittent breeze. Then Dennis will come in the room—or if he didn't shower, though he usually did, they'd be together, talking to each other on their sides about the dinner they'd just had and whatever else they had experienced that day—and it would begin.

Tonight, though, Mac knows better than to suggest that. Dennis deflects the gang's invitation to head back to the bar after Guigino's, says he's tired, the food didn't settle well on his stomach Mac nods along with him, believes him. Mac wonders if the rest have figured it out, and there's really only two possibilities: they don't care or they're completely oblivious. Mac feels like it's as obvious as the two colognes he's put on, what this is, how this usually goes down. They've stopped asking why Mac always goes with Dennis, why Mac always rides shotgun, why Mac and Dennis have lived together since Dennis graduated. Oblivious or apathetic. Mac flips the tip of tie up and down. He doesn't know which one would be better.

In Dennis's car. Mac looks at Dennis's hand and wonders if he's allowed to touch.

Dennis answers the question for him, reaches all the way over to put his hand on Mac's knee. His eyes do not leave the road.

"I feel like we see them every day," Dennis says. "I mean, we _do_ see them every day. And I like that, you know? Shit, you've got me feeling sappy."

"Maybe it was Frank's bougie wine," Mac says with a little laugh, staring at Dennis's hand on his knee. The curves and the bumps, like a mountain range on a map.

"Anyway, yeah, you know, they're alright sometimes. Dinner was nice enough. But." Dennis bites his lip for dramatic effect, and on any other night, Mac would probably roll his eyes. Would probably have rolled his eyes if this had happened earlier, before Charlie and Frank showed up, would have said something like, _you're always so dramatic_ , but fondly, because those type of statements are allowed tonight. Instead, Mac keeps his eyes locked on the hand, the other leg bouncing in time with his heartbeat. "This is _our_ night, you know? Hell, we could have dinner with those bozos any other night of the week at an at any other place. But Guigino's…Guigino's is special."

"Sure is," Mac agrees, with another nervous laugh. They allow themselves Guigino's, but they don't _discuss_ Guigino's.

"It's not ruined, though." Dennis looks at Mac then, smiles. "No, not at all."

Mac swallows and smiles back. He places a hand over Dennis's on his knee and waits for a comment, but all Dennis does is lace their fingers together and pull Mac's hand onto the console, how it should be.

 _You've forgiven me,_ Mac thinks, but out loud he says, "I thought the food was kinda subpar tonight, if I'm being honest."

"Oh, no, you're completely right." Dennis chuckles. "It must have been that ridiculous Groupon deal, getting their kitchen all in a mess. You know, a place like that _really_ shouldn't be doing Groupon. It's a _fine dining_ establishment."

"Yeah, it's not Dave & Buster's."

"Exactly!" Dennis looks at Mac again, still grinning, his eyes sparkling. Mac's knee stops shaking and he presses himself into the seat. Maybe he's drunker than he thought, but he squeezes Dennis's hand, nearly bites down on his lip when Dennis squeezes back.

 _Why'd you have to bring up that chick you went down on?_ He thinks about asking. _That's not part of tonight. I don't care that you've went down on chicks. That you go down on chicks. But why'd you have to bring her up? And her asshole, of all things? That one girl? That one time? Are you that insecure? Do you not like it?_ Unfair questions, because Mac could turn that back on himself— _why one day a month, why not the other twenty-nine_?

Mac doesn't want to be thinking about this. Blames Dee, Charlie and Frank for fucking up their night. The peaceful rhythm of Guigino's interrupted, despite Dennis doing his best to salvage it. Mac appreciates it, really. Mac looks at Dennis and his skin shines in the moonlight even when there's nothing to make it shine. He just shines, Mac thinks, and if Dennis can call him the wind beneath his wings, and if it's Guigino's night, then he allows himself that thought.

"Let's go to bed," Dennis announces as soon as they step inside their apartment. "It's been a strange night."

 _Together?_ Mac asks without words, starting to step in the direction of his room. Even after the speech at the restaurant and the thing in the car, he can't be sure. Dennis answers the question for him when he grabs Mac's hand again, still looking at him like that. He tugs him, a little roughness hiding behind a gentle gesture. Mac thinks of being a teenager and shaking for it. _Every night every night every night_ , Mac thinks, and then _why do you have to ruin this for yourself?_ and then, _God can see your thoughts._

In Dennis's room with the light closed and the window opened a little bit. Mac loosens his tie slowly, watches as Dennis unbutton his shirt. Down to underwear and socks. Dennis pulls the sheet back, starts to enter the bed, then stops. He goes to the camera in his wall, pops out the tape that's in there, and tosses it on his dresser. He does not replace the tape. A camera running, with nothing to record that which it sees.

Mac doesn't acknowledge that. It's a part of tonight.

He does, however, take it as his cue. He pulls down the comforter on his side of the bed and slides in, taking his socks off in the process. He sits up against the headboard and watches Dennis as Dennis comes to bed. Dennis doesn't try to do anything, like he does on the tapes, no put-on demeanor or come-on; he just walks. And for all it's worth, that's fine with Mac, because just seeing Dennis like this, contented and casual, grabs Mac's heart every time. Sure, there's something to be said for Dennis all trussed up, but Dennis dressed down and bare is a different thing altogether. That, Mac thinks, is the essence of the monthly dinner.

It hadn't always been Guigino's; there'd been other nice places before it, and sometimes they still mix it up if they don't really feel like Italian food. But the people at Guigino's know them, know what they drink, and they always say _Welcome, Mr. and Mr. Reynolds_ ¸ and Mac and Dennis smile and nod and let them. It's not _that_ unusual, pretending like that, they've done it before. They set not a concrete date but instead the fourth Saturday of every month. The restaurant gives them free dessert if it falls on one of their birthdays, free drinks if it's the date they've arbitrarily picked as their anniversary. ( _Arbitrary_ their ass: it's the date Dennis asked Mac to move in with him and Mac fucked him on the bare hardwood floor, no furniture and no beds yet, young enough that it didn't hurt, though they both play it off like that didn't happen.)

"Hey," Dennis whispers, nosing against Mac's cheek. He's settled next to him. "You're in your head."

"Sorry, bro." Mac turns his head and smiles. They're not kissing, not even really touching, but they're almost there. Something swirls in their air, like they're breathing their hearts in and out of each other's mouths. "I just think, you know, I might be a little mad at the rest of the gang."

"Forget it, baby," Dennis says, and he touches Mac's thigh and Mac can't remember what he was supposed to be mad about it in the first place.

Mac leans in, kisses Dennis's lips open. Dennis pulls him towards him, arranging his arms around Mac's waist. Mac hangs a leg over Dennis's hip, slides his head so he can deepen the kiss. They kiss slowly, running their thumbs over each other's faces, mouth and hands and nothing more. It's not hard to get hard, to get excited, but it almost feels profane, sinful in a different way than usual. _Every day_ , Mac thinks again, and he curls his own fingernails into his own palm, hooked behind Dennis's back, to try and suppress the thoughts.

Dennis pulls back. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, fuck." Mac rests his forehead against Dennis's neck. "Fuck, I'm just—fucking everything up, I always fuck everything up—"

"No, shh, shh." Dennis takes Mac's head and tilts it up, looks him in the eyes. "Baby boy," he says, and maybe he's overdoing it with the _baby_ this and _baby_ that and maybe he let it slip at dinner, too, in front of the others and in the way they use it in private and not in public and Mac nearly choked and had to excuse himself to the bathroom to give himself a hard look in the mirror. In the present, Dennis kisses between Mac's eyebrows.

They stare at each other. Mac hears the unsaid words and they break his heart.

"Come back to me," Dennis says, and Mac complies, kissing him. He presses Dennis over so that Dennis is on his back and Mac supports the weight of his own body on his hands. Missionary style. Still they kiss, and Dennis doesn't even pull any of the weird tongue shit he sometimes does. Mac moves his mouth to Dennis's neck, though, just far enough down so that if he leaves a mark it'll be covered by one of Dennis's collars. He wonders if they notice that Dennis's shirt choices reflect a pattern in the month, those loose-necked sweaters and Henleys versus the button-ups carefully arranged by calendar date. Mac notices. Mac always notices.

Dennis grabs at Mac's back and holds him, stretches his head off to the side to get the best angle. Down further and Mac can feel Dennis's cock through his briefs, hard against Mac's stomach. Mac keeps working Dennis's neck while he reaches his hand down. He rolls Dennis's briefs as he himself starts to move down, trying to be careful, trying to be sexy, about getting them off, and he mostly succeeds even if Dennis has to kick a little. Mac sheds his own and pulls the discarded comforter back over them. The cracked window makes it chilly, makes little goosebumps rise on Dennis's skin, makes his nipples pucker.

"Mac," Dennis says as Mac comes back up and pinches one of those hard nipples between his fingers (he never even knew he liked them like that, always thought of them as an unfortunate part of a woman's body, until he met Dennis and Dennis's sensitive nipples.) "Hey. Mac."

"Yeah?" Mac pulls up, rests his forehead against Dennis's. His hands still.

"It's not just the jackknife." Dennis closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. Mac waits, wonders if this is one of those instances where Dennis stops halfway and leaves Mac to fill in the gaps, figure out what he's saying, so that they never have to speak of it by name and summon the demon that it will surely bring. "It's this too, you know."

"Yeah. I know." Mac does not know. Mac questions it every day of his goddamn life. Mac presses a kiss to the corner of Dennis's lips and closes his eyes and tries not to think.

After years of this—of this as a whole, but specifically of monthly dinners—Mac knows the routine. He keeps working Dennis's nipples until Dennis starts making these breathy little moans and starts thrashing his hips, trying to wiggle his cock into a position to get friction against Mac's abs. (Something they do _sometimes_ , but not these times.) Then Mac sits back and pulls the bottle of lube Dennis keeps in the drawer of his bedside table and slicks his fingers up, administering little kisses on Dennis's chest while he does so. It wasn't always like that, of course, in the beginning, but now Mac's pretty sure he could figure this out even if he went blind. He slides a pillow under Dennis's hips with his dry hand, then holds his face as he uses the other hand to prep him, Dennis helpfully hitching his legs, beneath the covers, around Mac's waist, Mac kissing him through it, cooing into his mouth.

Mac gets Dennis to come like this, thrusting his fingers towards Dennis's prostate and swallowing his moans with his mouth while he jerks him off. Another time, he might feed Dennis's own come to him, but on these nights, Mac wipes his hand as discretely as possible on the sheets. Mac lets Dennis calm from his orgasm, kissing him softly even though at this point he's so hard he's leaking precome and feeling like anything could set him off. To make this good, to make this last, Mac says—the one time they're allowed, Guigino's night, after Dennis's orgasm, when they're wearing the disguises of Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Reynolds, husband and husband— "I love you."

"You, too," Dennis says.

The heartbreak really helps stave off Mac's release, so he slicks his cock up with the rest of the lube and lines himself up with Dennis, eyes squeezed shut and head hanging. Dennis pets his hair and tells him he's doing good. Mac lets out a breath he's been holding for twenty-nine days as he enters Dennis, and always in this moment Dennis panics a bit, pulls Mac down by his back and flush against his chest, hugs him to him.

One moment. One moment after everything, always treated like a surprise.

Mac gets Dennis off a second time before allowing himself to finish, a softer and slower handjob between their stomachs, an orgasm weak in quantity but not in quality. Dennis provides the same courtesy and muffles Mac's groan when he comes with his mouth, his kisses.

Afterwards Mac pulls out and rolls on his side, taking the pillow out from under Dennis's hips. He moves Dennis a little further towards his own side of the bed, gets him out of the wet spot created by the lube, the come Mac had wiped off earlier. Then he opens his arms and Dennis slots in, head tucked under Mac's chin. And Mac holds him. And he holds Mac.

"Not the night I was expecting," Dennis whispers into Mac's shoulder, like they're teenagers trying not to wake their parents at a sleepover. "Maybe we should change the date up, so this never happens again."

"They don't care," Mac says, and he knows that's the answer to his previous wonderings, too. "They were just jealous that we were doing something without telling them."

"I'm pretty sure we've told them about dinner nights before."

"Well, Den, they do have the memory of goldfish." Mac smiles and presses a kiss to Dennis's hair, so soft, smelling so nice. He doesn't appreciate it enough. He doesn't get to appreciate it enough.

"You're right. We should probably remind them."

"Nah." Mac pulls Dennis closer to him, as close as they can get. "Like I said, dude, they totally don't care. They'll be doing something weird and stupid next month, same as always. They won't give a shit what we do."

"Can't believe I have to wait a whole month," Dennis mumbles. He's pretending like he's drifting off to sleep, but Mac feels his muscles still a little tense in his arms. The pendulum on a grandfather clock swinging.

Mac wants to say, _we could do this every day_ , and then Mac thinks about going to Hell and dragging Dennis down with him, so Mac says nothing at all.


End file.
